| ◼ A U.S.-backed charity, supported both by private security and the Israel Defense Forces, embarked on an effort to distribute humanitarian aid to the Gaza Strip. With the help of a shockingly credulous press, a variety of international institutions have responded by retailing fabrications designed (and sometimes explicitly said) to show why they should have a monopoly on aid distribution. We were told the population was starving as a result of an IDF hold on aid—a fallacy exposed by the AFP’s observation that “residents have resorted to grinding lentils, pasta and rice for baking bread amid severe shortages of flour.” We were treated to the staggeringly innumerate claim that 14,000 infants would starve within 48 hours if action was not taken. And when the U.S.-Israeli aid program ramped up, U.N. officials and their stenographers regularly alleged that the distribution sites were kill boxes in which Israelis lured civilians with the aim of killing them. There is a sense of dread pervading all this that the U.N. aid effort, which has been co-opted by Hamas (as evinced by civilian raids on the U.N. food storehouses that Hamas holds hostage), could be coming apart—and with it, the key to the terrorist group’s rule over the Strip.
◼ Bonjour tristesse. There may not be much left of what used to be thought of as the French way of life, and as from July 1, there will be even less. This loss is sharpened by the way that a new law—an extensive ban on outdoor smoking—is being justified on grounds more typically associated with those puritanical Anglo-Saxons: It is “for the children.” From that dread July date, smoking will be banned in outdoor spaces where the little tykes can be expected to be found. According to the minister responsible, “the freedom to smoke must end where the freedom of children to breathe fresh air begins.” That includes even beaches and public parks. One consolation: The ban will not apply to outdoor café terraces. There, at least, a customer enjoying a Gauloise can ponder the joys of living in a state that can control its smokers, but not its streets.
◼ During the 2024 Paris Olympics, Italy’s Angela Carini quit 46 seconds into a women’s boxing match against Algerian opponent Imane Khelif. Khelif was one of two competitors in the women’s boxing division who was previously disqualified from the 2023 International Boxing Association Women’s World Boxing Championships after failing a sex-identification test. Association president Umar Kremlev said in 2023 that Khelif and Taiwanese boxer Lin Yu-ting were ineligible for the women’s championship because DNA tests had “proved they had XY chromosomes.” Lin did not appeal the association’s decision; Khelif appealed but then withdrew. In defense of its “inclusive” policies, the Paris 2024 Boxing Unit and the International Olympic Committee asserted that, as was the case in previous competitions, “the gender and age of the athletes are based on their passport.” Khelif and Lin were permitted to continue competing in the women’s division, and each won a gold medal. Recently, American journalist Alan Abrahamson, who is a member of the IOC’s press committee, published an excerpt of Khelif’s 2023 lab test results that stated “chromosome analysis reveals male karyotype.” That the IOC allowed Khelif to compete against women is, and always was, below the belt.
◼ After nearly 30 years, Sam Tanenhaus is finally publishing his biography of William F. Buckley Jr., an epic 900-page project to match an epic life. Tanenhaus deserves credit for the care he took in the research and writing. But Tanenhaus is a center-left writer who pronounced conservatism dead nearly 15 years ago, and his preoccupations blight the book. He maintains that Buckley was a mere “intellectual entertainer,” which significantly underrates his talent and achievement. Buckley obviously made an indispensable contribution to defining modern conservatism through his writing and advocacy, his friendship and correspondence with every conservative intellectual worth knowing (all of whom considered him at least a peer), through his institution building, and through NR. Predictably, Tanenhaus dwells on Buckley’s editorials in the 1950s favoring segregation. Those editorials were disgracefully wrong, but Buckley had changed on the underlying question by the 1960s. Tanenhaus is also fond of making, as Barton Swaim of the Wall Street Journal aptly put it in his review, “vague imputations of dishonesty,” which tend to be loosely supported at best and tell us more about the worldview of the biographer than about the integrity of his subject. Tanenhaus does grant that Buckley was a “great man.” Still, his massive volume doesn’t do justice to a man who lived a legendary life and changed the 20th century.
◼ In 1838, a young Abraham Lincoln said that the “silent artillery of time” was doing “what invading foeman could never do”: deprive America of the enduring influence and example of those who survived the Revolutionary War. John Tyler, America’s tenth president, was born in 1790, a few years after that war, and had no memory of it, but doubtless knew many who did. Three years after Lincoln’s speech, Tyler became the ailing William Henry Harrison’s vice president, and then president himself. His succession was no sure thing procedurally, but he asserted it as the vice president’s role in the event of a president’s death. His term in office was mixed. He left it as a man literally without a party but endorsed Democrat James K. Polk. Historical posterity remembers John Tyler little. But his actual posterity is a different story. Tyler married his first wife, Letitia Christian, in 1813; they had eight children. He remarried in 1844, after her death, and then had seven with his second wife, Julia Gardiner. Lyon, his 13th child, was born in 1853; his father lived until 1862, long enough to win a post in the Confederacy but not long enough to take it. Lyon, who was president of William & Mary, lived until 1935. His son Harrison Ruffin Tyler was born in 1928. Befitting a man who was an improbably extant link to America’s early years, Harrison Tyler was deeply interested in history. He spent many years tending to the Sherwood Forest Plantation site, which his father, a slaveholder, had owned, and nearby Fort Pocahontas, a Civil War-era Union supply depot built by black soldiers. He purchased both himself (he had a long and successful career as a chemical engineer). But the silent artillery of time spares no man. Harrison Tyler, this 21st-century reminder of a 19th-century president, is no more. Dead at 96. R.I.P. |